


Numbered rooms

by lauraloves



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Balle - Freeform, I kveld med Ylvis, I'm Sorry, It's all a mess, M/M, Secret Relationship, everyone is hurt, non-au, rett og slett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-20 04:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2415152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraloves/pseuds/lauraloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They couldn’t really put words to this little arrangement. It simply was what it was; two friends who occasionally liked to get drunk and have sex. But is it ever really as simple as that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Numbered rooms

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're thinking many of these chapters look familiar, it's because they were originally posted as individual works but I realised they were better smushed together into a series. Hope that's not too confusing!  
> This originally was going to be one-shot thing, but IKMY keeps throwing me ample inspiration!

Calle loved his job. He loved the freedom, the variety and the company. He particularly loved that the job afforded him the opportunity to travel all over the country and have fun disguised as work. The hours were often long, but the camaraderie of the whole crew made up for it. Everyone was in it together; working hard for a unified goal to create something fun and unique that they took pride in. However, what made the job really fun was the nights when they could play hard; the nights when the hard work was done and there were no plans or obligations for the next morning.  

It was a night like this that the crew sat together in the deserted hotel bar, riding the high of another show well done. Vegard had long since gone to sleep, leaving Calle, Bård and a few of the other guys who were fully intending on sitting in their corner of cosy bar until closing time. Bård was clearly a little drunk, as evident by his flushed features and watery eyes. He was practically swaying by the time he stood up to announce he was heading up to his room.

Without Bård’s jolly, gregarious presence the conversation between the men became slightly muted, and Calle felt exhaustion start to creep into his body when his phone vibrated in his pocket. The vibration sent goose bumps racing down his spine, and he was suddenly wide awake. He scrambled for the handset and eyed the push notification for the SMS. He couldn’t suppress the smile on his face, or control the feelings that were stirred within him, when he read the simple message. It wasn’t even a sentence or a word. It was simply three digits: 804.

He realised the ice had melted in his glass of scotch, but he sank the watered-down liquor in one swig and reached for his jacket.

 “Hey, where are you going?” Someone asked. All eyes drifted over to Calle.

Calle sighed, before answering: “Ladies, it's been pleasant: but it's late, I'm tired and quite frankly, you all bore me".

Calle’s pithy response was met with uproarious laughter. Little did they know Calle was only half joking.

"No, stay just a few more minutes” Christian slurred. “I'll pour you another drink, Lars was about to tell us about the time he strapped a giant fan to Vegard's back!"

Calle conceded and listened politely, laughing and smiling on cue for the requisite amount of time. However, his mind was very much elsewhere, and finally after 15 minutes he had finished his scotch and said his goodbyes, not caring about the exclamations of protest that followed him out of the room. He practically sprinted towards the elevator, and pushed the button to the eighth floor.

With nervous excitement he made his way down the corridor, until he found the door with the right number. He knocked and waited a moment, but there was no response.  He contemplated turning away, just as the door opened and a hand pulled him hastily into the darkened room.

Soft lips found Calle’s in the dimly-lit room and locked on fiercely. He was pushed against the door, which clicked shut behind him, and the thrill of finally being alone with his lover sent a jolt of excitement through his body. The lips migrated to Calle’s jaw, and he closed his eyes to savour the delicious sensation of the hot puffs of air on his face. In the midst of the frantic, heated exchange Calle felt an insistent hand tugging at the waistband of his jeans, whilst the other hand palmed rhythmic circles along the fabric, rapidly rubbing Calle to full arousal.

“You took your fucking time” the familiar voice whispered hoarsely between sweet kisses.

Calle chuckled lightly. “God, you’re such an impatient little cock slut, Bård”

“Fuck you” Bård breathed, face buried in the nook of Calle’s neck as he kissed and sucked with urgency.

Calle chuckled softly "only if you're good".

The subtext wasn’t lost on Bård, not even in his slightly inebriated state. He stopped to deliver Calle a seductive stare, eyes wide and shining even in the dim light. Calle noticed for the first time that Bård's was wearing only his boxers, and evidently hard.

Nothing more was said as he Bård tugged at Calle’s jeans, pulling them down with minimal resistance.  Bård rubbed the thin fabric of the boxers that separated his hand from Calle’s now rock-hard cock. Calle watched Bård intently as he did so, noting how his eyelids fluttered and his lips parted ever so slightly. Calle took the initiative and pulled down his own boxers, freeing his erection.

Calle felt a warm pressure coiling in his abdomen as the younger man slid down onto his knees willingly, and stared at Calle’s penis as if in a state of reverence. The soft light of the room played off Bård’s features, emphasising his beautifully-defined cheekbones and casting glimmers in those brilliant blue eyes. His lips parted further, and Calle watched as Bård used the flat edge of his tongue to lick the underside of his cock from the base to the tip. Calle looked on, intertwining his fingers through Bård’s light brown hair as the other man slowly took the whole head in his mouth. It took all of Calle’s restraint not to grip that hair tight and forcefully thrust forward into the hot depths of Bård’s throat. Encouraged by Calle’s low moans, Bård picked up the pace, whilst gently fondling Calle’s tender ball sack as his skilled mouth worked the hard shaft. It was a luscious sight, and Calle felt the wave of arousal intensifying with every lick and slurp.

Calle couldn’t really put words to this little arrangement. He figured there was nothing to be said. It simply was what it was; two friends who occasionally liked to get drunk and fuck. He had long since stopped trying to analyse the situation. It still amazed him how easy it was to dissociate the two parts of their relationship, like flipping a coin that revealed on each side a different facet. The coin tended to flip when they were away from their families; alcohol-fuelled trysts in numbered rooms were the unspoken perk of the job. Nothing was ever said aloud which alluded to any guilt or other such complicated emotions. It was simple in its complicity. He figured it was okay as long as they didn't share the bed for anything other than the act itself. Not long after they came Calle would stop only to regain his composure before bidding a silent goodnight to the sleeping form beside him and staggering back to his own room. Waking up the next morning with only a hangover for company was comforting in its discomfort. He knew Bård felt the same, and the next morning a silent nod of acknowledgment signalled that everything was again how it should be.

He was brought back to the present by the sudden loss of the hot mouth from his cock, followed by a firm pressure on his chest pushing him towards the bed. He let himself be pushed back onto the mattress with force, and barely had time to yank his t-shirt over his head before Bård was pressed against him on the sheets, cool hands gliding down his thighs causing him to shudder with anticipation. Calle reached under the waistband of Bård’s boxers and kneaded his butt, causing him to roll his hips and rut against the older man with obvious intent. "Oh god I want to fuck you so badly" Bård breathed as he grinded his body against Calle’s. The coarse words sounded impossibly sexy, not least because Bård’s voice was husky from deep-throating Calle’s cock so proficiently. Calle just nodded mutely in response, eyes shut in total rapture. He normally loved to take charge, savouring the sweet moans of the other man as he fucked him mercilessly. However, Bård’s fervour was always heightened after a show, and on nights like this he was more than happy to be the one at the other man’s mercy.

Bård nipped at the delicate flesh at Calle’s clavicle, before continuing a trail of light, teasing kisses all the way down Calle’s torso and to the sensitive skin between his thighs. Calle’s breath hitched as he felt the other man’s hot breath on the underside of his balls. His hands grasped reflexively at the bed sheets as the other man's hot, moist tongue lightly grazed his entrance. Before his brain could process what had just happened, he whimpered at the sensation of two fingers sliding into him. The younger man smiled salaciously as Calle grimaced at the sudden fullness, exhaling slowly to ease the discomfort. However, Calle was quick to adjust to the feeling and soon found himself willingly pushing against the probing fingers. Bård leaned forward, tip of his tongue grazing Calle’s navel as he said the words, low and seductive and laden with intent: “are you ready to be fucked?” A slender finger brushed against the sweet spot, causing everything to white out for a moment. Calle’s response was a guttural moan, before he collected himself and uttered the words he knew the other man wanted to hear. “Fuck me, Bård”.

Bård gently retracted his fingers and put on a show of seductively snaking his boxers off his narrow hips. Calle shivered with a knowing anticipation as the other man reached down and rummaged in the suitcase beside the bed, producing a bottle of clear liquid. Calle loved to watch the other man jerk himself off, covering his balls and shaft with the slick lube. All the while Bård’s laser blue stare fixated on Calle’s face, getting off on the euphoric look that his exaggerated actions elicited. Suddenly neither man could hold back and longer, and Bård positioned himself between the legs of the other man. He hovered over Calle, massaging his thighs and buttocks to relax him. Calle exhaled deeply as he felt Bård's cock just barely pressing against his entrance, teasing him. As he pushed in further Calle thought fleetingly of how he was always amazed he could accommodate it; how the dull pain suddenly gave away to thousand-watt blinding-white pleasure as the other man plunged into the heat. Calle he pushed his hips up against Bård’s, wrapping his legs around his waist as he did so.

They settled into an increasingly fast rhythm, as moans cut through the air heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. A familiar tightening in his abdomen quickened Bård's motion and pushed a growl from his throat. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back into the other man with force. Bård had been working Calle’s shaft as he drilled into him, but as he approached orgasm multitasking grew difficult, and instead he gripped Calle’s hips tightly. Calle took over, grabbing his own painfully-hard member and looking up at Bård, brows furrowed and soft, full lips parted as a throaty groan escaped them. The irresistible view caused Calle’s arousal to peak, and he came hard and hot across his own chest. His shuddering orgasm rippled through the other man, and Bård shared in the moment of ecstasy, chanting Calle’s name as he found his release.

Bård withdrew, and as Calle rolled onto his side he felt clumsy arms envelop him as he lay panting and euphoric. He instinctively tried to get away and pull his heavy body from the bed, but extricating himself from the others man’s arms proved impossible. Bård tightened his grip whilst issuing a gentle “shhh”, as if attempting to both soothe Calle and silence his actions. Calle felt a light kiss as the nape of his neck, so uncharacteristic of the usual nocturnal activities shared by the two men. He didn't have the strength nor the will to resist any further as he drifted off to sleep. He had resisted long enough.

 


	2. Nachtspiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lately there had been a shift. Despite all the good things that were going on in his life, there was the unshakable feeling that something was missing.

Bård never felt guilty for his actions. Rather, he felt guilty that there was no guilt. He questioned his ability to so easily sweep aside such negative feelings. He rationalised his occasional indiscretions by telling himself it was just a way of satisfying a base need, like eating or taking a piss. He knew his wife would never see it that way, but it was hard to care when lust took hold and claimed dominance over rationality. Well, it wasn’t so much that he didn’t care; he simply couldn’t care. He was weak in the arms of the other man.

One thing he never questioned was why Calle was the only man he had ever fucked. He had been tempted by others of course, especially when he was younger and performing all over the country. Back then it never went any further than jerking off in the shower, summoning mental images to take him over the brink as he pressed his free hand against the tiles to support his shaking knees. Despite opportunities, he had never taken another man back to his hotel room. Even though a lot of the men who propositioned him were hot, he would tell them he was taken, or simply that he was not gay. This was completely true; Bård didn’t believe in labels.

As such, he never put a label on whatever it was that him and Calle started in that Oslo hotel room. It happened after one of the early meetings with the TVNorge powers that be. Bashing out the details for a new talk show over a liquid lunch had turned into celebratory drinks at a bar, which in turn became a nachtspiel for two in Bård’s room. The meeting had been fruitful for all involved, and the young man was excited and euphoric for the chance to fulfill this long-standing ambition of his. It had been established that Bård would be ‘the boss’ and he felt invincible that night, like the world was there for the taking. Maybe that’s what drove him to lean into Calle’s lips as he lay giggling beside him on the bed. It didn’t even surprise him when Calle reciprocated the kiss, eagerly undoing the buttons on Bård’s shirt as he did so. The only thing that did surprise him was just how natural it all felt, from the sensation of the bare chest pressed against his own, to the delicious feeling of Calle’s stubble against his belly as his kisses migrated lower and lower. The alcohol-soaked memories of that first drunken blow job never failed to get him hard.

Now all he had were the hazy memories. The last two coded SMS messages he had sent to Calle had gone unanswered; the man didn’t knock on Bård’s door anymore. It seemed Calle had decided to ‘get real’ and commit to his sweetheart and a lifetime of monogamy. Bård’s pride was a little bruised, but he understood and respected the decision. You couldn’t tell a thing was off on the surface. Calle was the same warm, easy-going person he always was, and their friendship remained intact. In fact, Bård couldn’t have been happier for Calle as he stepped out of that chapel a married man.

But lately there had been a shift. Despite all the good things that were going on in his life, there was the unshakable feeling that something was missing. The last few live concerts were fun, but on the occasions when Calle joined them for nachtspiel he was noticeably more reserved and largely abstained from drinking. Even when his band mates teased him for being kept on a short leash by his new bride, he answered with a tight grin and retired to his room alone. Bård would stay up late putting the world to rights with Tarjei, but when he finally sank into the sheets in the early hours sleep continued to elude him. It wasn’t even the sex that he missed the most. Rather he found himself craving arms to hold him and feather light kisses on his temple that would send him off into a state of blissful slumber. Had that actually happened? Maybe Bård had dreamt that last part, as the other man was never there when he awoke the next morning. He spread himself out wide like a starfish, hoping that making himself as big as possible would ease this unsettling vulnerability.

He reached out and grabbed his phone, squinting at the glowing screen. He started typing a message, but stopped and stared at the words he had formed on the screen. He knew that sending the message would be like admitting that this gnawing discomfort he felt was caused by something completely out of his control. He hated not being in control. He erased the three words from the screen, placed his phone on the bedside table and tried to make himself comfortable on a mattress that was just a little bit too hard. Still, the words ricocheted around inside his mind, and before sleep finally claimed him they escaped his lips and took a tangible form.

“I miss you”.


	3. Kappløp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the race to win the gullhatt, Calle is left confused by Bård's actions.

How long had Calle been running?

No more than twenty seconds, but already his lungs were heaving, his calves felt heavy and he was convinced he could taste the iron on his tongue. His shoes weren't made for running, as from the moment he sprinted energetically around the fountain he felt the impact acutely on the soles of his feet. What could've only been seconds stretched out for what seemed like an eternity. As he burst into the imposing building and started to scale the steps of the theatre the pain intensified, but he knew nothing in the world would induce him to stop. Even the blood thrumming aggressively in his ears couldn't obscure the pounding on the footsteps behind him; the reminder that he was being chased. Vegard had long been left in the dust, and so it was the neck and neck between himself and Bård for the final seconds.

As he burst through the door of the main hall the swell of cheering from the crowd summoned in him a final burst of energy as he dived onto the gleaming bronze bell and collapsed from exertion onto the soft carpet. He'd given his all, and felt close to vomiting as he struggled to take in that first vital lungful of air. As he lay prone, panting on the floor he suddenly felt someone leap onto him him from behind. Well, Bård didn’t exactly leap on top of Calle; rather he seemed to let himself down gently onto the other man. Bård’s arms snaked around Calle’s chest as he attempted to lift himself up from the ground. Although his heart was still thumping in his chest, the warm body that enveloped him was calming and comforting. He surrendered to the feeling, making no attempt to shrug off the man as Vegard finally caught up. It was Bård who retracted, rolling over onto his back to compose himself. Still incapable of coherent thought, Calle pushed his forehead onto the carpet and took some more deep breaths.

Calle thought no more of the incident as the show wore on; the pace was frenetic as ever and everything rolled on pretty much as planned. It was only as they started Gullsjansen that he became aware of the pinching in his feet, no doubt a side-effect of running in shoes that were not fit for that purpose. By the time the show was over, the sting on the heel of his left foot was unbearable, and he barely waited until he was behind the curtain before shrugging off his shoe. There would definitely be a blister. He contemplated taking off his sock to investigate further.

"You know, if we get blood on the floor the theatre staff expect us to clean it up" Bård was smiling as he spoke, his expression a mixture of relief and uncontained glee from a successful live show. Calle called it Bård’s ‘shit-eating grin’, a phrase he had heard American’s say. In Bård’s case it seemed to fit perfectly.

Calle didn’t return the smile. A feeling of irritation of bubbling under the surface, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. “Bård, this show is breaking me. First my feet are ripped to shreds, and then some idiot jumps on my back..." However, any attempts to maintain his deadpan façade soon failed as Bård chuckled softly.

Bård placed his right arm on Calle’s shoulder. He looked on with a look of mock concern "Where does it hurt?”. He arched his eyebrows, before continuing “do you want me to give you a back rub?"

Calle mentally flailed against the thinly-veiled suggestive nature of the question. "Uh… no" he replied, hoping that the feelings stirred within him would be obscured under a mask of nonchalance.

Bård pressed on further. “Oh come on” his tone had suddenly changed; his voice was lower, huskier somehow “you know I give a good back rub”.

Calle could barely begin to process these words and actions; so out-of-the-blue after months of calm, easy friendship and professionalism. He was momentarily distracted by the sounds of crew members entering their previously vacant corner of the backstage area. Bård took advantage of the distraction, pushing Calle gently in the sternum within the folds of the large red velvet curtain. He glanced around to ensure they were fully out sight of any passing crew members before closing the gap between them and kissing him full on the lips. Calle didn’t, couldn’t, surrender for even a moment of weakness. He pushed back reflexively, distancing himself as much as the small space in the draping fabric permitted.

“Are you insane?! What even...” he sputtered, arms flailing to compensate for his inability to verbally remonstrate with Bård.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking..." Bård mumbled in reply. He chewed on his lower lip, before levelling his gaze and answering with a voice soft and low. "Sometimes I miss you, okay?"

The thrumming in Calle’s ears was as intense as when he had been sprinting. He saw reflected in the other man’s eyes a culmination of months, maybe even years, of repressed longing. Bård seemed to take Calle’s lack of response as a signal to try again. He leaned in slowly to whisper in his ear "I miss... this".

Old habits die hard, and so Calle’s body responded to the feather light sensation of Bård’s hair on his cheek, as though disengaged from all logical thoughts. He moved in closer, not entirely sure how to proceed; he suspected the other man was wrestling with the same thoughts. Neither man had ever exercised such caution around the other before, but of course things were different now. Yet as they started to close the gap once more, the moment was disturbed by someone shouting Bårds name. The younger man issued one last look, the look that could make Calle forget the time and the place and everything else in between. As clichéd as it sounded, Calle often had the unbidden thought of how one really could get lost in those eyes. Yet in an instant it was over, and he was pulled back to the here and now as Bård backed out and disappeared from within the fold of the curtain that had shielded them.

Calle took a few deep breaths before peeking out from his hiding spot, and he watched the other man disappear into the crowd of people that was now milling around backstage. He started playing with his wedding ring, feeling the weight of the metal, as he tried to shake off the gloomy thoughts that threatened to pervade the peace. In the past few months of bliss he had never stopped to consider exactly what he gave up when that band was placed on his finger. If he was honest he had never considered it a sacrifice. It simply was what it was.

Except it wasn't. Not anymore.


	4. Bad idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension has been building between Bård and Calle. Eventually it all reaches breaking point; but will anything be resolved?

For the first time in forever, Bård had the house to himself. His wife had taken advantage of the autumn break to take the children to visit her parents. The house seemed impossibly large when it wasn't ringing with the laughter of his young family. He knew they would only be gone a few days but he missed them. The day he kissed his family goodbye the Concorde team had managed to wrap up work earlier than usual, and it was suggested that everyone go home and simply relax. Well, in Bård’s case he was ordered home by a strict yet concerned older brother and colleague. He always had a strong work ethic, but lately he had thrown himself into it with a zeal that surprised and worried even Vegard. He didn't want to admit it was wearing him down, but a quick glimpse in the hallway mirror showed a man with dark circles under his eyes, and hair that looked lank and dishevelled.

Bård probably should've relished this rare opportunity; especially at this time of year with the show in full swing. Yet he thrived on chaos, so he found inertia unsettling in his usual fast-paced life. It was the first of four nights at home alone and he wondered how he ever coped when his family were miles away in Bergen. Then he remembered, and felt himself flush with the shame with the memories of all those times he sought comfort in the arms of his closest friend.

They had been used to picking up where they left off whenever the opportunity presented itself. Although ample at first, these opportunities soon became sparse; especially when Calle had been working with Raske Menn. But in the past year the friends had been thrown together much more frequently, and the more they indulged, the more Bård had found himself wanting. He didn’t realise the extent of the wanting until Calle called it off. The very fact it had been the other to extinguish the affair angered him; when had he stopped being in control of the situation? When exactly did everything get so fucking complicated?

He decided to watch a DVD to distract himself from these unwelcome thoughts. It has been a while since he'd had the time to sit down and watch an entire movie. It had barely started when the doorbell rang. He opened to door to the face of the very person his thoughts had momentarily settled upon. Like himself, Calle looked tired, drawn and on edge. Bård swallowed down the conflicting feelings that rose up within him. He stared questioningly at his friend, awaiting an explanation for the sudden intrusion.

“Uh, hei… sorry I didn’t call ahead, but Vegard is busy and there’s no one else close by”. Calle shuffled uncomfortably as he spoke, obviously desiring to be anywhere but the porch of the younger brother.

"What happened, fight with the missus?" Bård joked lamely. Calle gave a sharp look indicating that, yes that was exactly what had happened. He faltered, before continuing. "Well I'm just watching a film, make yourself comfortable, I guess" Bård's words sounded mumbled and almost slurred. He must've been more tired than he realised. He sank back down onto the sofa and stared at the screen. Within a few moments he heard a soft thud as the other man settled beside him.

"What are you watching?"

"Django unchained"

"Again? Diversify, man!" Calle snorted, causing the corners of Bård's lips to curl up despite himself. They sat in silence for a few moments, both trying to relax as much as was possible given the circumstances, until the quiet was punctuated by a loud clattering sound. Calle had placed his phone on the glass table, and it vibrated loudly on the surface. Bård noticed Calle tense as his wife's name appeared on the screen. Calle reached for it and scowled at the contents of the message he has received. He hastily typed a reply and set the phone aside again. Bård watched this ritual repeat twice more. As each message was received and replied to Calle sank further into the sofa, irritation etched on his face. By the time the fourth message arrived, Calle was tenser than ever, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor. By now Bård had come to recognise the signs that his friend needed a nicotine hit.

"You can smoke if you like, but not in here" Bård replied impassively, face never leaving the screen.

"Right", Calle muttered, rising to head to the back garden. Bård noted that he took his phone with him.   
He took a few deep breaths, and tried to concentrate on the film, but the anxiety was hard to bear. Calle was the man he least wanted to see. The line, once so clear cut, was now blurred beyond recognition. The pair hadn’t spoken properly since the night of the race, when he had foolishly exposed his vulnerability. He swallowed it all down like a bitter pill, reminding himself that Calle was first and foremost his friend. He hoped that with focus and restraint this could be remedied, things would be alright.

When he realised that the Calle had been gone a while, he made his way to the kitchen to pour himself some cola, and spied him through the window, silhouetted in the garden floodlights. He could see from his body language that Calle was on his phone in the midst of a heated conversation. He had no doubt that Calle was arguing with his wife, and the knowledge of this both concerned him and filled him with hope that he could be well placed to comfort his friend. This in itself was concerning. Suddenly the conversation ended, and he watched his friend stuff the phone furiously into his pocket. Against his better judgement, Bård found himself making his way out to the garden.

Calle was startled out of his revelry by the other man’s presence, and looked on with an unreadable expression. Bård’s overriding instinct was to comfort his friend, so despite his worry that attempts at physical contact might be construed as a come on, he hesitantly stepped forward and held his arms out to him. He was surprised when the offer of a hug was so readily accepted. Just as he attempted to pull back Calle responded by bringing his arms fully around the other, tightening the embrace. Calle's skin was cold to the touch, but Bård didn't mind. He didn't try to pull away when frozen lips met his own. He didn't even mind the taste of cigarettes, or the rough fingers that glided under the hem of his t-shirt to the small of his back.  
Calle's cold kisses blazed a heated trail across to Bård's jawline, and the younger man found his voice. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're angry, I'm tired. This is a bad idea..." He suppressed a moan as his weak protest was ignored, stifled by sweet kisses down his neck. He felt his body start to betray him as Calle pulled them closer still, pushing his thigh against Bård’s groin insistently. He stopped, and blue eyes met their like in the harsh artificial light. Bård couldn't find it in him to issue another protest as Calle's hand found his own, tugged softly and led him back inside.   
A thousand thoughts and feelings rushed through Bård as they made their way to the guest bedroom. However, the negativity was quickly overcome by his desire for closeness, and hunger for the taste of salty skin. He pulled Calle in for lingering kiss. Calle’s earlier coolness thawed as it gave way to fiery lust. Things escalated quickly. “You’ve been teasing me” Calle whispered into Bård’s ear hot and heavy, unfastening the younger man’s jeans. He hooked a finger under the waistband of Bård’s boxers before continuing. “Dropping your pants on national television like that…”  
“Speak for yourself. That dress you wore left little to the imagination…” Bård retorted, recalling how he had struggled to keep his composure at the sight. It was only much later that he had allowed himself to indulge in fantasies of fucking the pretty bridesmaid in the blue dress and flower garland.

Calle responded by pushing Bård onto the bed, and the younger man’s heart pounded excitedly as Calle proceeded to undress him, lavishing on him many months’ worth of suppressed desires. Bård was wearing only his boxers as the other man straddled him, looking down on him with a look that made his mouth dry. He was still fully-clothed, a sign Bård mistook for reticence. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, although nervous for the answer.

“I don’t know what this is…” Calle replied pointedly. He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Bård’s lips, rolling his hips as he did so. “But I want you”.

“That’s good enough” Bård choked out, just letting himself enjoy the sensation of being licked and nibbled from his neck to his stomach. His boxers were pulled down in a swift movement and he gasped as Calle’s lips connected with his erection. Calle worked his shaft, rapidly picking up a pace that wiped out any trail of coherent thought. He had forgotten just how good Calle was at giving head. Bård gripped the sheets and felt his toes curl reflexively as the man worked him like no one else ever had.

“Oh god, fuck me, please” he almost shouted despite himself, causing Calle to stop what he was doing and flash a glassy-eyed smile. Bård watched as the other finally undressed, admiring the wiry physique. Bård often mused that Calle looked so much better when he was naked. Calle kneeled on the bed, his impressive erection springing upwards. He eyed him seductively.

“Get on all fours” he ordered, in a commanding tone that sent a jolt through Bård’s stomach. Bård baulked initially at the request, before doing as instructed, pulling off the bedspread and spanning his hands wide for purchase on the mattress. He took deep, calming breaths to relax himself as Calle got into position, gripping his hips firmly as he started slowly guiding himself in. Soon they settled into a rhythm, Bård pushing back to match the thrusts of the older man’s hips. They couldn’t keep it up for long, and moans grew sonorous as both approached orgasm. Bård felt his hands and knees begin to buckle from the exertion of holding himself in position. The other man must have sensed this, for he reached around to Bård’s erection and planted kisses along his spine. With a few deft pulls and words of encouragement Bård came, trembling as hot semen spurted onto the bed sheets. Calle pulled the other towards him firmly, crying out in ecstasy as he too found completion after a few sharp thrusts.

He withdrew and both promptly collapsed onto the bed from the exertion. Bård let himself be pulled into the other man’s arms, exhaustion washing over him. They were still panting, coming down from their high, when the weight of their actions started to creep in. This was true infidelity, literally too close to home; the bed they were lying in had been made by Bård’s wife. Although it didn’t need to be stated, Bård spoke aloud regardless. “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

“Nope” was the succinct reply from Calle, who despite the words made no attempt to disentangle his limbs and leave the scene of the crime.

"We've fucked up" Bård breathed. None the less he savoured the skin-to-skin contact with the other man. He knew that despite the guilt and shame nothing could compel him to lift his heavy head off the other’s chest.

"Yep" Calle replied. Bård’s head was close enough to feel the breath on his cheek. Yet the tone of Calle’s one-syllable reply made him seem distant somehow, like the sound was coming from underwater.

Bård fought to bring Calle back to the here and now. "Calle"

"Mm?" The low sound rumbled through Bård, and it brought a small comfort.

"What do we do now?"

The answering voice was weighted in heavy lethargy. "Now, we sleep".

Bård closed his eyes, allowed himself to be momentarily soothed by the beating heart of his close friend, until a discomforting entered his brain, and the question formed on his lips immediately. "Will you still be here in the morning?" He hated how weak his voice sounded, and grimaced when his question was met with silence. But really he needn’t have concerned himself with being heard, because Calle had settled into a deep sleep, once again leaving Bård alone in his thoughts.


	5. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It would probably be funnier if you didn't look so sexy"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the dead dog dance:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_mt_Fe7Y70
> 
> [Track: HAIM - Falling (Duke Dumont remix)]

Calle watched the two figures spin and sway to the pulsing beat. Although Thea was the professional, Bård led competently, and as he lifted and spun her around his own body he looked anything but an amateur. Bård didn’t tend to sweat much, but the auditorium was warm, and his skin glowed with perspiration. Every now and then his white vest would ride up, revealing a hint of his midriff. Every time he pulled his partner towards himself the muscles in his forearms tensed, and his strength was evident. Calle couldn't take his eyes off him. He squirmed uncomfortably at the feelings elicited within.

He tried his hardest to look impassive. He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the other man. "Remind me why this is funny?"

Vegard shifted on his feet as he floundered for a succinct explanation. "Um, well... It's the absurdity of misusing performance art to express through intricate and fluid movements a simple yet uncomfortable truth". Calle dragged his eyes away from the dancing pair, looking puzzled at the man beside him. Vegard shrugged, and continued. "I don't know. It was Bård's idea. He probably just felt like showing off". 

At that moment Bård mis-stepped and took a tumble, falling on his hip. He was met with slow clapping from Calle and Vegard. Bård looked over sharply; he had obviously been unaware the others had arrived. He looked over at Calle, momentarily abashed, before scrambling up to his feet. Calle slapped Vegard on the shoulders, smiling. "You're right, this will be fucking hilarious". Without missing a beat, Bård returned to his position beside Thea, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She dissolved into giggles, leaning on his shoulder as she regained her composure. Calle’s smile faded as he felt hot envy wash over him. He tried to shake it off.

The whole sketch, or rather Vegard's tentative interpretation of it, seemed the perfect metaphor for Bård and Calle's current situation. They were forever spinning in circles in the dark, casting shadows that could never move beyond the confines of bedroom walls. However, the simple yet uncomfortable truth was that they couldn't stop spinning even if they wanted do. Despite the crushing guilt he felt when he awoke in the spare room of Bård's family home, nothing could stop him from clutching the hand of the other under the crisp bed sheets. The pressure was reciprocated, and they both stared up at the ceiling; making a silent admission that they weren't willing for this to end. It was simple in its complicity. Even when he grovelled to his wife for his part in their quarrel, he couldn't help casting his mind back to the night before. Making love to his wife he tried to stem the images that flooded his mind; images of Bård, eyes shut in rapture and lips parted just so. Ever since, Bård’s all-pervading presence had threatened to occupy the fortress of his mind.

Calles thoughts were disturbed by Vegard clapping his hands together. "Are you ready for the opening dance?" The question was directed at Thea, but she glanced over uncertainly at Bård, who appeared exhausted from the morning's practice. Thea answered: "okay, let’s take a breather and I’ll run you through it!"

"But we're not finished with this dance yet” Bård muttered, frustration evident in his tone.

Vegard made a point of checking his watch. "But I can't wait any longer, Bård. I need to be finished in time to pick up the…"

Vegard was cut off by Thea, who took on her cool, authoritative tone she reserved especially for these kinds of disputes. She looked to the lanky man beside her. "Bård, let’s just run through the other dance this afternoon and pick up our number again tomorrow…” she paused to wrap an arm around his slender torso and gave him a reassuring squeeze, and Calle once again experienced a mild prickle of envy. “…but you’ve done so well; you just need to practice a little more, but don’t wear yourself out tonight. Get some headspace”. She looked around at the three men. “Let’s get to it!”

The rehearsal of the opening number went without a hitch. Especially for Bård, as he had spent the morning rehearsing a far more intricate routine. When it was over Thea gathered her things and hugged Vegard and Calle in turn. When she reached Bård she seemed to hug him extra hard for his efforts. Calle didn’t fail to notice. Vegard was in a hurry to leave, so he shouted his goodbyes to the other men as he hastily followed Thea out of the door.

Bård and Calle were alone in the auditorium. Both feared moments like this. These moments never held any significance before; but now the air between them felt thick and heavy. This time is was Bård’s turn to try and alleviate the tension. He looked directly at Calle with the smallest smile. “What did you think of the dance?” Calle baulked at the question, and Bård realised his error. Both knew that this was dangerous territory. However, Bård did seem pretty pleased with the number, and his enthusiasm was infectious, so Calle smiled in his response. “It’s great…I still don’t get why it’s funny though”

Bård’s smile faded, he looked on confused. “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think it’s funny”

“They say that humour is subjective. But in this case, Carl Fredrick, you are wrong”

“All I’m saying, is it would probably be funnier if you didn’t look so sexy…” The words had left Calle’s mouth unbidden, catching both men off-guard. Calle felt his mouth go dry as he became aware of his sudden proximity to the other man. They had been unconsciously moving closer together during their brief exchange, and the tension was building further still.

“Let me lift you” Bård breathed.

“What?!” Calle’s answer sounded more like a feeble squeak.

“Come on! I want to practise. Just once” Bård pleaded, pulling the other man into the centre of the floor. Calle didn’t even bother resisting. “Okay, so all you need to do is run towards me, take three strides and push off with your right foot. I’ll support you and spin you around. You just need to grip my neck, and try not to choke me. Right?”

Calle shrugged nonchalantly, but none the less backed away from the other man to begin his run and jump. Bård looked over and smiled encouragingly. “Whenever you’re ready…”

Calle did as instructed, and to his surprise felt himself being lifted with ease and spinning. The rotation was barely 360 degrees, but with the heat and proximity to Bård he felt dizzier than ever as he was lowered to the ground. He lost his footing, and as his arm was still around Bård’s neck, when he fell he took Bård with him. The pair were collapsed in a heap, giggling at the absurdity of it all, giddy on adrenaline and lust. Calle rolled onto his side to face Bård, who was still chuckling to himself, eyes crinkled and hair a mess. His laughter died when he saw how intently Calle looked at him. Calle’s hand went up of its own accord to lift a strand of hair out of Bård’s face. Bård leaned into the touch, and their faces were close enough for Calle to feel the hot breath on his face. Calle closed his eyes, luxuriating in the closeness, reaching out for more.

The swinging of the door brought them both back to the here and now.

“Thank FUCK for that!” Vegard shouted, walking purposefully over to the side table and picking up an object that was lying there. He suddenly turned and noticed the two men lying together on the floor. “I forgot my phone”, he offered as explanation for his outburst, before his look changed to puzzlement. “Um… what are you two doing?”

“Nothing!” both mumbled in unison, rushing to their feet and brushing off the dust on their clothes. If Vegard noticed their red faces or the mussed up hair, he never said so. “Whatever, now I REALLY have to go; see you both tomorrow”, and once again rushed out of the door.

“Well, shit”. Bård mumbled, running his hands through his hair.

  
“It’s okay, he didn’t even see us” Calle soothed, placing his hand on Bård’s hip and gently drawing him in.

  
“I know, but we need to be more careful”.

  
“I agree” Calle whispered conspiratorially onto Bård’s neck. “Kaja will be out all day, do you want to...”

  
Bård pushed away gently, disengaging himself from Calle. “I can’t, I have things to do at home”. His voice sounded harsh and gravelly, or at least Calle imagined it did. He swallowed his disappointment and nodded, walking away to collect his phone and car keys.

 

Calle felt that sting he had experienced earlier watching Bård dance with Thea. Only this time he felt it far more acutely, like an icy grip in his chest. Of course Calle understood; even though they both knew they had gotten in way too deep, ultimately there were still unspoken rules. Their families were their tethers that kept them grounded. They stopped them from spinning too far off their axis. They stopped them from falling.

  
So why did it still feel like he was falling?


	6. Dichotomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård faces a few uncomfortable and unsettling truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still reading this angsty mess of a story? If so, THANK YOU! 
> 
> This one was particularly difficult to write because I'm not great at writing dialogue. Hopefully the next chapter should make up for it though :)

Bård and Vegard were closing in on the third hour of a long, tedious finance meeting. It hadn’t been necessary for them both to attend, but neither was willing to skip it. After all, they had worked so hard to build their company it was senseless to remain ignorant to these important matters. However, despite all his best intentions Bård found himself start to flag from the mental exertion. He was uncomfortably warm in the starchy white shirt he had been forced to wear, and he found himself constantly tugging at the collar to cool himself. More than anything, he felt tense and constricted. In these moments it was difficult to keep a grasp on the here and now. His mind began to wander, and he mentally conjured a solution for his feelings of tension and confinement. A sly smile ghosted his lips as he daydreamed of his release.

It was around 13.00 by the time by the time the meeting had mercifully ended and they could return to the office. Bård wasted no time in grabbing his wallet, his keys and Calle. As the two made their way out of the office Vegard called after them to ask where they were going. Bård noticed the almost imperceptible flicker as Vegard’s big brown eyes shifted from Bård to Calle, and back again, silently appraising them both. Bård looked down at his phone, pretending to check a notification as he answered smoothly. “We’re going to Kiwi, do you want anything?”

“No I’m fine, I brought lunch”. Vegard mumbled, pulling a plastic container from his backpack.

Bård wrinkled his nose in disgust at Vegard’s lunch. “Quinoa has got to be the most pointless thing ever; how do you eat that stuff?”

“Shut up, Bård”. Vegard sighed. He sounded weary, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he spoke.

Bård returned the smile, relieved that he wouldn’t actually need to go to Kiwi. In fact, he and Calle had descended one flight of stairs before they settled beside a door and Bård starting fumbling for his keychain. The rental agency had entrusted Bård the master key to the second floor offices which were currently vacant while a new tenancy was being sought. Bård never normally had reason to come down here, but in light of the boring meeting and the long day of work yet to come, he was thankful for the extra space; the opportunity to expel his pent up vexation. Up until now both men had been silent with minimal interaction, but as Bård pulled out a chain full of an excessive yet entirely necessary bundle of keys, he felt big, blue eyes fixed upon him.

“How long until we need to be back?” Calle whispered.

“About thirty minutes” Bård answered, distractedly, growing a little frustrated in his search for the correct key.

“So little time…” Calle mused. He took a step closer, and Bård was acutely aware of the change in proximity. Bård smiled triumphantly as he finally found the key, holding it aloft and pushing it into the lock as his free hand gripped Calle’s wrist.

Bård smiled seductively as he pushed the door open. “Then we need to make it count”.

They barely made it the other side of the door before Bård launched himself at the other man, causing him to issue a loud grunt as the air was knocked from his lungs from the pressure. Calle was pushed against the wall, pinned under the weight of Bård’s body has he unleashed the pent up frustration that had been building all morning, perhaps longer. His lips applied pressure that was soon reciprocated, and Bård felt hands intertwine in his long hair, pulling him in closer. Calle’s thigh pushed between Bård’s legs and he felt the warm pull in his abdomen, heart pounding excitedly at what was to follow.

Yet despite Calle’s initial enthusiasm, the fevered passion soon slowed to a maddeningly frustrating pace. Calle pulled back, seemingly content to just slowly run his hands over Bård’s clothed chest, planting light kisses across his jawline. Bård met Calle’s gaze, and saw the other man looking down on him with a look he didn’t immediately recognise. It was not the earlier visage of lust. Rather, it looked closer to admiration, or adoration. Calle chuckled to himself, fingering the cufflinks on Bård’s shirt.

“What’s so funny?” Bård asked, drawing Calle closer in an attempt to pick up the pace once more.

“It’s not often I see you dressed like this”

"Are you high? I’m wearing a suit. I wear suits all the time… idiot"

Calle shook his head, looking on amused as he attempted to explain himself. "Yes but this is different” he soothed. “Normally when you’re in a suit it’s on your terms…” he brought his hands up to unfasten a single button on Bård’s shirt. “But it's always fun to see you forced to dress smart. You're like a sullen teenager in your Sunday best"

Bård really didn’t understand, but he pulled Calle in for a kiss to stifle his continued giggles. “As much as I’m enjoying the dirty talk, can we hurry this along? We haven’t got all day” He leaned in, nipping the delicate flesh on Calle’s neck. Calle hummed appreciatively as Bård applied more pressure, and finally he pushed into Bård with the urgency he had been craving.

"We should get a room one night” Calle breathed into Bård’s ear, hands working away unfastening Bård’s belt. “It’s been so long since we last..."

Bård didn’t want to interrupt. His mind fluttered to the last stolen moment of intimacy, and how incredible it felt to give in and open himself to the raw, visceral pleasure. However, he knew he would have to speak up, so he pulled away a fraction as he responded. "We can’t do that, and you know it. It's risky"

Calle looked confused as his hands rested on the front of Bård’s pants. "Riskier than what we are doing now? You’re not the only one with a key to this room. Someone could so easily let themselves in". As he spoke the words Calle popped the button on Bård’s pants and unfastened the zipper, before delving his hand into the waistband of Bård’s boxer shorts. He deftly gripped hold of Bård’s semi-erect penis, causing him to issue a muffled sound despite himself. He breathed into Bård’s ear, low and husky. “Someone could so easily see me jerking you off while you moan like a whore…”

A rigid dichotomy existed within Bård’s mind. Most of the time he prided himself on rationality and control. Ruled by logic, he made decisions based on a careful, rigorous assessment. However, sometimes he was want to relinquish control. It was these moments when he gave over to Calle; gave over to a need he could never understand. Something that defied all notions of sense and logic. For a moment the latter part threatened to dominate, and he allowed himself to be swept up in the irresistible prospect of a night with Calle tangled in crisp hotel sheets. However, despite the pulsing heat between his legs, the dominant, more rational side forced him to push away. He felt the loss of touch acutely.

"We can’t get a hotel room” he affirmed resolutely. “We're not on tour anymore! That isn't something that can be easily explained or justified. The only way we can keep doing this…” he gesticulated in the space between the two of them “is if we keep it completely separate from our home lives. Our families. You have to understand that”.

“I can’t compartmentalise my life like you can, Bård”

“What do you mean?”

Calle issued a heavy sigh, looking down at his shoes before fixing his gaze back on the younger man. “What I feel for you, it’s...” He faltered, seemingly searching for the right words, before he continued. “What I feel for you, I can’t confine it to little pockets of time. I want you at any time and any place I can have you. I want more”

“It doesn’t work like that. It never has”

"Why does everything have to be on your terms?” Calle answered bitterly. “It's always the same; you call, I come running. It's always if you're horny, drunk, tense, or bored, or just because you can. Why is it one rule for you and another rule for me?”

“That’s not true. I just think it’s important to have boundaries”

“Like that time in your guest bedroom when your family were away? Wasn’t that crossing your so-called ‘boundaries?’”

Hot fury rose up in Bård at Calle’s audacity to bring up the one transgression that had delivered him a sense of unrelenting guilt and shame. He tried to swallow it whole again, maintain his control, but the rage broke through. "Don’t you DARE turn this on me! You were the one who fucked me because you were mad at your wife"

Bård expected fire. He did not expect Calle to step backwards and run his hands over his face. Calle closed his eyes as he spoke slowly and deliberately. “I didn’t do it because I was mad. I did it because I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you”.

“I don’t understand” Bård said.

“Look, I love my wife”, Calle began “but if it’s possible, I think I love you more”

Bård was dumbstruck by the admission. Once again he battled conflicting thoughts. For a brief moment he was consumed with the irresistible fact that Calle wanted him. Loved him. The uncertainty he had felt when Calle ended things between them had shaken him more than he cared to admit. The loneliness and discontent that crept in had disrupted his sleep and clouded his judgement, causing him to pull Calle back into the affair and shatter his newly-wedded bliss. The knowledge that Calle had always wanted him warmed him to his very core.

On the other hand, he was scared. Scared of this love. Scared of the feelings it stirred within. Scared of what it meant for their friendship. Scared for his marriage. Through all his moments of uncertainty, Maria had been the one person he had been one hundred percent sure of. She was his constant. His compass. He had never professed to be the perfect husband, but he could justify his transgressions by keeping them entirely separate from the deep love he felt for her and his young family. Now though, the complications arising from his affair were threatening to shake the foundation of everything he had. It terrified him. He wondered if Calle was in his right mind. If he understood the implications of what he was saying, the difficult position he was putting them both in.

“What do you want?” Bård asked.

“More” Calle breathed, the word weighted with meaning.

“This is all I can give you” Bård responded. He wasn’t looking at Calle as he spoke; rather, he had fixed his gaze at the calendar on the wall that was two months out of date.

  
Bård looked up to see Calle staring intently at him, “Well then, what is the point?”

“There is no point” He responded, immediately regretting the bluntness of his words as Calle took a step backwards. He had the strongest urge to just pull him in and kiss away the hurt he had caused. On the other hand he knew that wouldn't make things better for Calle. If Calle was to stand a chance at the real, sustained happiness that he deserved, Bård had to put aside his own selfish needs and let him go. Bård held steady, watching the fight die in Calle’s eyes as he refused to give him the encouragement he sought. He stayed immobile, trying his hardest to look and act impassive.

He looked down at his shoes, unable to meet the gaze of the other man. He fixed his gaze so intently that he wasn’t aware that Calle had moved until felt the whoosh of air from the door slam behind him. 


	7. Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the rain poured, everything had taken a turn. He couldn't even remember what was said, only how it all made him feel. Therein lied the problem. He was feeling far too much.

It took a few good tries before the spark was ignited. Calle took a long drag of his cigarette as reward for his efforts. The small stone alcove of the building did little to shelter him from the deluge, and he shivered as the rain blew in sideways, saturating his flimsy t-shirt.

The rain had started when they stepped inside the empty downstairs office. He was faintly aware of the pitter patter on the windowsill that provided a comforting white noise as he immersed himself in the taste and scent of Bård.

But as the rain poured, everything had taken a turn. He couldn't even remember what was said, only how it all made him feel. Therein lied the problem. He was feeling far too much. Normally smoking helped, but now the disconsolate feeling was so acute it seemed like there was no vice strong enough to quell it.

How did he get here? How could this even be real? It was such a bizarre turn of events.

* * *

 

_“What if you just walked into public places – like hotels and fountains – stripped off completely naked and started washing yourself?” Bård sank the dregs of the champagne from his disposable cup, before chuckling to himself and letting the cup roll onto the bed._

_Calle eyed the other man quizzically, noting the wide smile and flushed features of his very inebriated friend “Yea you’d like that, you little perve”._

_“No, I’m serious! We wouldn’t make a big deal of it. You would just walk in with your towel and soap, ignore everyone around you, and carry on like no one is watching. Then put on your towel and leave again”._

_Calle maintained his poker face, but as he pictured the scene in his head he agreed that it would make a good sketch. “Why am I the one getting naked?”_

_“Because I’m the boss, and I say so”._

_“Okay Bård. But if you keep saying that, I’m calling mutiny” Calle reached over Bård and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, nearly knocking over his own little plastic cup of champagne in the process. “You know, I didn’t realise you were so eager to see me naked”. He rolled onto his stomach, phone in hand, opened up the notes section where he had been collecting ideas all week. He simply typed ‘Calle bader’._

_Bård leaned in to see what the other man was doing. He read the simple note, and started singing a simple melody in Calle’s ear. “Se på Calle… se Calle bader”_

_Both giggled at the impromptu tune, and Bård hooked his arm around Calle, pulling him into an awkward hug from behind. Calle wriggled away from the contact and turned over on the bed, realising how drunk he actually was when the very act of rolling onto his back left him reeling. He figured he should make his way back to his own bed soon, but Bård’s happiness and sheer enthusiasm was infectious. He could stay there and listen to him prattle away his ideas all night._

* * *

 

He knew he couldn’t stall for much longer. The thirty minute time limit that Bård had imposed had come and gone, and he had received a text off Vegard reminding him that the meeting was due to begin. The objective of the meeting was to flesh out the script and the order of the day for the UNICEF special. Calle should've been excited for the finale; the icing in the cake for what had been an incredible feat for the whole team. Yet right now his stomach churned at the thought of what was in store. He was so worn down he really just wanted it to be over so he could get as far away as possible.

He stubbed out his cigarette and trudged up the stairs. As he stepped into the cool, open-plan office, he was surprised when people looked up and simply carried on with their work. He obviously didn’t look at dreadful as he felt, aside from being soaking wet. Vegard poked his head around the door of one of the larger meeting rooms, and beckoned Calle inside.

* * *

_The day the contract with TVNorge had been signed, Jørgen had taken them all out to celebrate. Much alcohol was consumed, even by Vegard, who was swaying as they exited the taxi and made their way into their hotel. Despite the early flight back to Bergen the following morning, Bård had been eager to continue the party in his hotel room. Only two rooms had been booked for the three men, so they had played rock paper scissors for the privilege of the private bedroom. Naturally Bård won–he was preternaturally good at rock paper scissors for some reason–but really it didn’t bother Calle. Sharing a room with Vegard at least meant he would be able to get some rest at some point from the hyperactive younger brother. Calle wasn’t used to seeing Bård so engaged, so excited. So happy. Calle thought it suited Bård well. That’s why when Vegard made his way to bed, Calle decided to stay and help Bård finish off the bottle of champagne he had been gifted by the production company._

_Bård sat upright on the bed, reaching for the bottle and taking a swig. An explosion of bubbles caused him to cough and splutter, the effervescent liquid spilling down his face and onto his shirt. Calle looked on with his trademark deadpan expression. “I can’t believe you’re my boss”._

_This caught the young man’s full attention. He shuffled closer to Calle, cocky half smile on his face. “Say that again”. He commanded._

_“What?”_

_“Call me boss. I like it”_

_“No Bård. You sick, power-hungry freak”_

_“Just say it”_

_“What if I refuse?” Calle crawled closer to Bård, plucked his cup from the nightstand and starting swirling the amber liquid inside before sinking it in one gulp. He looked him in the eye, trying hard to keep his straight countenance. “Are you going to FIRE me?”_

_“You bet your sweet ass I’m going to fire you”_

_“Sweet ass?!” Calle exclaimed with mock indignation. “Sweet… ASS?? You know, I could report you for sexual harassment in the workplace” He broke into uncontrolled laughter._

_“Shut up” Bård laughed. He lunged forward,_ _grasping Calle's chin between his thumb and forefinger. Calle was still chuckling away, his reactions impeded by alcohol, so he didn’t register what was happening until_ _Bård’s face was centimetres from his own._ _Their noses brushed together, and Calle closed his eyes, breathing in the saturated air between them. “Shut up”_ _Bård_ _repeated. Calle gasped as wet lips pressed against his own for just a fraction of a second._ _Bård broke away smiling, seemingly satisfied with the effects of his actions_ _. Bård leaned in again, this time slower. He whispered softly to Calle as their lips collided: “You know you like it”._

_And he did._

* * *

 

He didn’t need to look at Bård to know he was there. His presence, his magnetism, was something Calle could always sense. He quickly settled into a chair where he could be sure Bård was directly out of his line of sight. Vegard kicked off the meeting, scribbling a mind map onto the white board. Bård was almost conspicuous in his silence. When Calle finally summoned the courage to glance over he found the man furiously scribbling his notebook. Mercifully when Vegard opened the floor for brainstorming, other team members were galvanised and keen to share their thoughts, allowing Calle to get lost in his own.

He thought again about what this final episode would hold in store. Calle had only been involved in one UNICEF special before, which had resulted in the loss of his trademark long hair. Although he had grown to like his new style, he still wasn’t used to it. His missing hair was like a phantom limb; he still tried to run his fingers through his length. His hair was still long in his dreams. He wondered how long Bård would continue to haunt him.

* * *

_Guitar-worn fingertips brushed against his cheek and entwined in his long, fair locks, pulling him deeper into the wholly unexpected kiss._ _He wasn't alarmed, or scared. He didn't question whether it was wrong. It felt good. He had basked all day in_ _Bård’s_ _euphoric glow, this was surely a natural extension of the affection they had always held for each other. He could almost taste the champagne bubbles on the tongue that caressed his own._

 _Their lips never broke contact as Bård_ _fell backwards, pulling Calle down on top of him. Calle’s movements were frantic and clumsy as he straddled_ _Bård_ _. In a fog of inebriation he fumbled with the buttons of_ _Bård’s_ _shirt, every now and then dipping down to kiss the swollen, parted lips of the man beneath him. He couldn't resist licking and nipping the exposed flesh._ _Bård was delicious._ _Calle’s actions elicited sweet gasps and moans, encouraging him to continue until the shirt was discarded on the floor beside them._

 _Bård_ _reached up to pull Calle closer, pawing at the buttons on his shirt with little success._

_"Take off your shirt" he slurred._

_Calle's conscience prickled. For a moment he wondered if_ _Bård_ _was actually aware of what he was doing, whether he was in his right might to consent to whatever the fuck was happening. "Are you sure?" he whispered._

 _Bård_ _gripped his hips, pushing their pelvises closer together. Calle felt the hard bump, shuddering at the friction the movement created. When he looked into_ _Bård_ _eyes he was met with a look of fierce intensity he had never seen before._ _Bård’s_ _pupils were so dilated Calle could barely make out the blue grey irises._ _Bård spoke slowly and deliberately, sounding out every syllable in a sweet low voice._ _"Take off your shirt"_

_Calle was quick to comply._

* * *

“No. That’s not going to work”.

Bård didn’t look up from his notepad as he spoke. Everyone in the room turned and looked at him. His mood was sullen, and imbued the room with palpable tension. The meeting had started off well, but there were disagreements over the finer nuances of the script. A lot of material had been prepared, but now there was the question of what would be used and when. Calle hadn’t contributed as much as usual, but anything he did say was disregarded or outright ignored by the younger Ylvisåker. He wondered at Bård’s audacity to be so impudent, so cold. Calle shut himself off to the disagreement Bård was having with one of the editorial team members. He was only pulled from deep thought by Bård exclaiming “It’s a bad idea!”

“Oh, do you really want to talk about bad ideas?” Calle said aridly. The words were out of Calle’s mouth before he realised, and everyone in the room was startled by the sudden remark. For the first time since their confrontation downstairs, the two men looked at each other properly, locked in a silent standoff. It was Vegard that broke the tension by abruptly changing the subject. Even as the conversation moved on and everyone laughed, Bård and Calle silently seethed, and Vegard looked between the pair questioningly.

* * *

_Their clothes had practically disintegrated in the heat of the moment, and Calle licked his lips at the irresistible sight of Bård writhing beneath him. Even through their boxer shorts he could feel the throbbing heat of the other man, and as he picked up a rhythm of rutting it drove them both wild until he could hold off no longer._

_He shifted down until he was straddling Bård’s lower legs. In a dreamlike state he pulled down_ _Bård’s boxers as_ _he lifted his hips to assist with their removal. Calle looked up at_ _Bård as his mouth enclosed around him, eyes wide and glassy. Bård gasped as he took him in his mouth all at once._ _Calle had done this once before, during an experimental adolescent phase, but this was so much better. He was encouraged by soft hands weaving through his long hair. As he grew more confident in his actions he gripped Bård’s pelvis, pinning him to the bed as he worked at a steadily increasing pace._

 _Bård_   _gasped, back arching in pleasure as Calle took him all in. The sweet moans and heavy, laboured breathing of the man beneath had an indescribable effect. He had never been more turned on. He pushed down all the way as Bård’s arousal peaked, and he came hot and heavy in his mouth._

_Bård collapsed into the soft pillow, glory evident on his beautiful face. Calle blindly reached for the nightstand, taking a swig of champagne to wash out the taste of the acrid substance that coated his tongue. He rolled off the other man and lay beside him, listening to his shallow breathing as he regained his composure. He probably would’ve been content to lay there like that; he was still hard, but it wasn’t anything that required immediate attention. Yet after a minute Bård curled into Calle’s side, licking and sucking his neck with an intensity that would surely leave marks. He reached down to Calle’s erection and picked up a fervent pace. Calle saw stars._

* * *

The meeting had finished hours before. Tasks had been delegated and Calle was grateful for a task to focus his attention. He was sick of wallowing in thoughts of negativity. Yet every now and then he would spot the other man through the glass panel of the office, feeling that frozen burn searing his chest.

He felt Bård’s presence even before he looked up. Bård was leaning into the doorframe with his elbow, his head cocked to the side and resting in an outstretched palm. The glacial look of earlier on had thawed to something softer and warmer. Yet looking into those kind eyes brought little comfort. He wondered if the sad, gnawing ache would ever go away.

“I’m sorry” Bård said softly.

Calle held his gaze steady. He didn’t know if he could forgive Bård. Then again, he didn’t even know if there was anything really to forgive. You can’t apologise for something which isn’t your fault.

A question escaped from Bård’s lips.

“We’re still friends, right?”

* * *

_“Huh?”_

_Calle had started pulling on his clothes when Bård uttered something barely comprehensible._ _Bård_ _had ducked under the covers not long after coaxing Calle to completion, cocooning himself in the duvet. A small part of Calle was tempted to join him, but he imagined the awkward questions it would raise if Vegard awoke beside an empty bed._

_“I said… we’re still friends. Right?”_

_Even in his drunken state Calle could detect the tremor in Bård’s voice; the uncertainty, when just moments ago he had been so sure. For Calle, the answer was clear. It had been a weird night, but really it didn’t change anything. He was just excited for what was in store; to create something brilliant and beautiful with his brilliant and beautiful friend. He grabbed Bård’s foot – the only part of his body visible under the covers – and gave a playful squeeze. The foot retracted reflexively._

_“Of course”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this little mess of a story. Just one final part to go :)


	8. Epilogue

Bård had enjoyed every second of the Raske Menn show at the Ole Bull Scene. Although a part of him ached to be up on stage it was good to see it all from the other side. Calle was amazing, and he marvelled at the man’s chameleon-like ability to move seamlessly from one comedy outfit to another. The love and admiration he felt for the other man was immeasurable. 

Growing up Bård had the capacity to love in all its splendour. He gave it freely, received it willingly and in times when it was dark he was like a dimmer switch; quietly illuminating any room until people were drawn to him and moved closer to the light. In his youth he had foolishly assumed that this would be enough, and that as long he achieved his singular ambition of making people happy then all would be right with him and those he was close to. He hadn’t yet learned that this virtue in himself that he took for granted was a rare one. He didn’t know that there are people with the capacity to suck the goodness out of everything and give nothing in return; that the stories about vampires were true. When he started his family, and the monsters came, he had to fortify his defences to keep them out. He would drive a stake through the heart of any that threatened the happiness of those he loved. 

So when Bård found love, or at least people like him who shone freely, he valued them deeply. This was something he sensed in Calle from the moment they met, which perhaps drew them close and sustained them through the times of stress and worry. Through simple acts of carnal pleasure, both men had learnt that love is complicated. There were many ways to love and be loved. Not all of them healthy or sustainable. Misdirected love could cause scars and fissures that took time to heal. 

Bård didn't believe in regrets. He considered them a waste of energy better directed to solving the problem. Yet at times he wondered, if given the chance the relive it again, would he still have kissed Calle and set off the chain of events that had split apart his perception of perfect love. 

When the show was over the trio rushed to the front of the stage and met with rapturous applause. Calle was beaming, a smile Bård loved so well. Bård rose to his feet in a standing ovation, and it was when Calle rose from taking his final bow that their eyes met in the packed theatre. Calle seemed to smile that little bit wider, and gave Bård renewed hope that distance would one day bring them closer again. 

There were no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the weird ending. I will write better stuff in the future. Thanks for reading <3


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